


morality ends where a gun begins

by GabbyD



Series: of dilemmas & necessary talks [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Communication, Daryl Dixon Needs a Hug, Dialogue Heavy, Gen, M/M, Moral Dilemmas, Morality, Pre-Slash, Psychological Trauma, Season/Series 08 Spoilers, Team Jesus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 07:49:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12744120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GabbyD/pseuds/GabbyD
Summary: “Rick told me about what happened, and asked me to talk to you about it since we can’t risk you killing the Saviours who surrendered. He thinks I might talk you out of whatever you’re thinking right now,” Jesus explains in an easy enough voice, but he’s not looking at Daryl.





	morality ends where a gun begins

**Author's Note:**

> 'Morality ends where a gun begins'; you can only judge someone's action if they had the freedom of choice, otherwise, morality does not apply. A quote by Ayn Rand.
> 
> And yes, I haven't watched the last two episodes yet. And yes, I'm writing anyway.
> 
> I have Thoughts ok.

“So, do you want to talk about it?”

Daryl glares from where he’s sitting, already feeling cornered inside the small trailer he’s been _strongly suggested_ to stay for as long as he, as Rick put it, “insisted on not listening.” It makes his skin prickle at the thought his family is out there with them but he’s the one being treated as a prisoner over wanting to deal with a threat.

The look on his brother’s face… as if _Daryl_ had lost his mind and was the threat, instead of being the only reasonable one. As if Rick was seeing him, really seeing him, for the first time.

He pushed down the bitterness, the hurt, and looked at where Jesus was standing still staring at him.

“Why you here?”

A shrug.

“Rick told me about what happened, and asked me to talk to you about it since we can’t risk you killing the Saviours who surrendered. He thinks I might talk you out of whatever you’re thinking right now,” Jesus explains in an easy enough voice, but he’s not looking at Daryl. Almost as if he didn’t think much of it. Instead he looks at some of the books on the table. “So here I am I guess.”

Daryl snorts. “What, you don’t think ya can do it?”

“Nope. I don’t.”

The honest answer throws him off, making him double check and forget his anger for an instant. _What the hell?_ The prick doesn’t seem to care though as he continues to look at the book covers, even picking up one or two as he does it. Casual as he can be.

“No?” Jesus shakes his head, making a ‘what-can-you-do’ face. “Why the hell not?”

“Why would you listen to me after what you went through? Look, I told Rick I disagreed with keeping you here regardless of why, and that trying to force it on you won’t solve the issue,” he explained. “You’re… incredibly stubborn, which is frustrating, but it’s part of who you are. I will still talk with you of course, and hopefully it will work, but you’re not a child and I won’t treat you as one. You’re not our prisoner either.”

“Then what am I?”

“Family.”

Daryl doesn’t answer - doesn’t know how, really, when faced with that raw honesty.

“You’re the one that brought ‘em here, ain’t you? Those _Saviours_ ,” he spits the word like it’s venom, and for him it is. Rotting him from the inside, making him unable to forget what they’ve done. “The way I hear it was your idea.”

Tara had been furious as she told him about it, remembering him of what they’d done, of who they’d lost. As if he had ever needed the reminder. As if he didn’t have the guilt drilled deep inside of him, together with the image of their faces— faces of those he had failed.

He had agreed with her, then, though Rick hadn’t.

That makes Jesus drop the casual act, looking down before answering him. “It was, yes.”

Anger blooms inside of Daryl, and he wants to yell. He wants to punch something, to take it all out on Jesus and whatever the fuck he can get his hands on. He wants to _break_ , just like he was broken.

Instead all he manages is to ask:

“Why?”

“Because it was the right thing to do,” the man doesn’t hesitate to say. “And, if I’m being honest, because of you. I saw what they did to you, what they did to your family, and I understand why you’re all angry. I understand why you want to kill them. I do, too.”

“If you fuckin’ understand then _why—?_ ”

“Because Daryl, do you honestly think you were the only one?” Jesus interrupts. “You were in the Sanctuary, you saw how it all works. How many of the Saviours were just like you before they gave up and kneeled, and how many civilians are there? How many are in it for their families, for their kids? How many didn’t have a choice?”

The scout doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about, he can’t.

He didn’t see Abraham, he didn’t see _Glenn_ , nor the smiles on the Saviours’ faces as Negan smashed their heads in. They laughed as Daryl’s family died, they laughed as Daryl stumbled around sleep-deprived and hurt, they laughed as he fell on his own puke inside the goddamn cell they kept him locked away in like an animal while being fed dog food.

They liked it, they _laughed_ , and they deserve to die.

So Daryl won’t have to go back to be broken again, so he won’t feel so pathetic and weak. So nobody in his family will go through the same as he did. He’d kill every single Saviour with his own bare hands just to make sure of it.

“There’s always a choice!”

But there isn’t.

He remembers the ones that looked away, the workers that whispered ‘sorry, man’ as he walked past with the broom in hands. He remembers Sherry, who said yes but didn’t want to, who helped him escape and whose short talks helped keep him sane.

The ones with burns on their faces, the ones that begged him to just kneel already.

“You know that isn’t true, Daryl.”

He doesn’t deny it.

Jesus sighs. “We can’t be like Negan. We can’t kill surrendered, disarmed people and then call ourselves good people. I don’t want to have that on me and I won’t.”

“We don’t know if they were forced or not, we don’t know what they done,” he argues, trying to keep his angry facade up though all he felt was tired. “They ain’t deserve that chance. It’s too risky.”

“I’m not saying for us to trust them, we can’t, but keeping them alive is a risk we have to take! If it bites us in the ass then by all means, kill the guilty ones, but are you honestly comfortable in killing someone who’s potentially innocent? Someone who has their hands up?”

“If it means we’re all safe—”

“Then what makes us so different from the Saviours?”

Daryl doesn’t answer, though he tries. It’s not that Jesus is wrong, he isn’t and Daryl knows that, but he can’t afford that kind of thought. Not after what was done to him. He doesn’t mind being the bad guy if it meant his family was ok. Sacrifices need to be made.

But did he want his family to do the same and lose their souls?

He knows what it did to Carol, what it almost did to Rick several times. He can see it on Tara. Morgan.

Daryl can see it on himself.

“I think that’s enough talk for now, don’t you? I’ll go grab something to eat and leave you to your thoughts,” Jesus says after a moment of silence, and Daryl only realizes that at some point the man must’ve sat in front of him now that he got up to leave. “Just… I’m not asking you to forgive them, Daryl. That’s not what this is about. But to think bigger than revenge, and to not lose yourself to it. You have people that love you here.”

He sighs when Daryl looks down and avoids eye contact with him, and the hunter doesn’t want to think he _disappointed_ the man or something. He shouldn’t care about that. But he does, for some reason.

_Since when he started caring what Jesus thinks of him?_

“Why are you tellin’ me this?”

“Because I care about you, stubborn and all, and Rick does too. So please start letting people help you.”

As if.

Daryl didn’t need _help_ , he needed his family to be safe. That’s all that matters to him and that’s all that ever will. Even if for some reason his family now included a prick who calls himself Jesus.

But though he doesn’t want to admit, the man got to him somehow.

“So! Do you want anything from the kitchen?” Jesus asks, that oh-so-casual tone back in place now that he deemed the talk done. “I think it’s almost dinner time already so I might be able to get you something specific. What do you want?”

“My dignity back,” Daryl bites, though his voice is a lot less bitter than intended and it almost sounds like a joke.

The other laughs brightly in surprise, apparently taking it as such. “Yeah, we have like porridge and maybe some pie, but I’ll see what I can do about that. Be back in a flash, don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t.”

“And try to not miss me too much while I’m gone!”

“I _won’t_!”

By the time Jesus leaves the trailer the airs are much lighter than it was before, and Daryl almost finds himself smiling. _Almost_. Because he’s got a lot to think about now that the prick is gone.

And he’s finally ready to listen.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to talk to me on tumblr at remuslupinsmiled~
> 
> Please don't forget to leave kudos and comments as they feed the hungry author's soul! <3


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